Blue Moon

Now that I have a blog, I think I'm going to get a digital camera. The reason is because stories like the following one would have so much more depth if there were pictures included.

Before my surgery, I wanted to have one last night out because I knew I would be laid up for a while. I wanted to do something fun and entertaining, something that I haven't done before. I called my friend April, who called a couple of her friends, and we had two options for the evening. First, we could have gone to a gay bar a few towns over. They were having a drag queen review, which I've heard is a great show if you're into music (and I am). The other option was the Electric Blue.

The Electric Blue is a special place. Not a special place like Disneyworld, but a special place like Chernobyl. One might call it a strip club, if one had too much to drink, was hopped up on E, and was just released from prison. The Electric Blue is like the car accident on the side of the road at which you can't help but look. I knew all this going in, however, my reason for going was far from sexual. Simply put, I am (well, was, after this experience) morbidly curious because this place is considered (by the locals) to be the skaggiest, skeeziest, most gonorrhea-liscious establishment known to New England. And just because I've never been to a place that is held in such low regard, I had to see it.

Now, I've been to strip clubs before. Actually, I've been to a strip club before. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't something worth repeating. Maybe a story for another time. Basically, I'm just not the strip-club kind of guy, but remember...Chernobyl...car accident...I figured this would be something different, and it was.

First of all, it was just topless, not full nude. Don't get me wrong, in this case it was a good thing. It was also very dark, much darker than the other strip club. This was also a good thing. The stage looked like it was soon to be condemned. It was composed of mongrel slabs of plywood, with a lacquered top for the actual stage. There weren't any strobes or colored lights, or anything to work with the music. The music was also terrible, and some of the songs were just wrong. One of the songs they played was "Lean on Me". What the hell? Though I have to admit, it was strangely appropriate when the DJ put on "Who Let the Dogs Out?"

Then there were the actual strippers/dancers, though I use these terms loosely. First, there were no costumes. There was no naughty nurse, nor strict police officer, nor coy Catholic school girl. Nada. All the girls came out in just their g-strings and that's it. Color me crazy, but part of being a stripper is starting with some kind of outfit, and then...well...stripping. Next, there was no dancing. A girl would walk out on the stage, make a few poses, then start going around the stage making a few more poses in front of anyone who put out a dollar. The were no pole acrobatics or anything. I was pretty surprised to see the girls half-assing it (no pun intended), considering that most of them were jacked up on coke or meth. A few of them even came out with a bit of sparkle under their noses, and I'm sure it wasn't glitter.

Of course, the girls weren't much to look at. One of the things about meth and coke is that it turns you into a skeleton and doesn't help your looks any. I remember one girl in particular that looked like she could star in the next Tim Burton movie. In general, the girls looked sick and diseased, and the eyes...*shudder*...that Chernobyl analogy is feeling a little more real. A couple of the women even had sores...apparently they forgot to pick up their Valtrex that month. Out of the dozen or so women who hit the stage that night, not a single one would fall under the category of "attractive" or even "maybe after a few beers".

Looking around, I noticed some of the other people were actually enjoying this. Meanwile, April and I were cracking jokes with our two new friends the whole time. We didn't stay long. After all, how long do you really need to stare at a car wreck?